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MORḠ-E SAḤAR

(Dawn bird), a taṣnif (song) in māhur mode, probably written for its music around 1921, when the first signs of dictatorship were appearing.

MORḠ-E SAḤAR (Dawn bird), a taṣnif (song) in māhur mode with the verse in two stanzas written by Moḥammad-Taqi Bahār (q.v.) to correspond with piš-darāmads (overture) by the renowned musician Morteżā Ney-Dāwud.

This song has had a long and troubled history. It has been sung as a comment on dictatorial regimes in Iran and the hope that one day a dawn bird would arise from the darkness of the night. As a result, during the whole of Reza Shah’s rule (1925-41), its second stanza was banned. Soon after his coronation Reza Shah had heard the whole of the song at a gathering at the house of his powerful minister, Taymur-tas. The music was played by the two brothers Musā and Morteżā Ney-Dāwud and the words sung by Qamar-al-Moluk Vaziri (Ḵatibi, pp. 19-22). Since its composition famous singers such as Qamar-al-Moluk, Moluk Żarrābi, Irān-al-Dawla Helen, Jamāl Ṣafavi, Moḥammad-Reżā Šajariān, Nāder Golčin, and Hengāma Aḵawān have sung it with skill and passion.

There are several conjectures as to why these verses were written, but it is more than likely that Bahār wrote them for this music around 1921, when the first signs of dictatorship were appearing. According to Nādera Badiʿi (pp. 110-12), after Šeydā, the first composer of songs in modern Iranian tradition, and ʿĀref, the first creator of nationalistic songs, Bahār is the most notable of songwriters in Iran, and Morḡ-e saḥar is the most famous of his works.

This song, like many songs of the awakening period in Iran, has two stanzas. The first is lyrical, and the second deals more with social and political issues. In public gatherings only the first stanza was sung, and occasionally the second stanza was also sung at private parties, where the atmosphere was suitable for political debates. The words of Bahār have retained their effectiveness even without the music. Among the numerous performances of this song those by Moluk Żarrābi, Iran-al-Dowla Helen, and Jamal Ṣafavi were recorded, but there is no evidence of a recording of Qamar-al-Moluk’s performances. Šajariān in a concert called Sarv-e čaman at Berkley University in 1990 performed this song, and Nāder Golčin, and Hengāma Aḵawān performed it in the radio programs Golhā nos. 150, arranged by Farāmarz Pāyvar, and Golhā-ye tāza, no. 210, arranged by Moḥammad-Reżā Loṭfi.

A few years before the Islamic Revolution in Iran, those responsible for the arts produced a different set of words for the same tune which were sung by Purān and ʿAbd-al-Wahhāb Šahidi in two voices. It was not received very well by the general public. Finally, a noteworthy point is that Bahār’s verse became so popular that it was sung and adopted by the ordinary people in the streets. Bahār himself is quoted as saying that one night he heard a passerby singing a line of the poem, but instead of šām-e man-rā, šām-e man-rā saḥar kon “turn my night into dawn,” he was singing šām-e tārik-e mā-rā saḥar kon “turn our dark night into dawn.” On hearing this Bahār changed the line to the passerby’s version (Yazdānbaḵš, apud Nawwāb-ṣafā, p. 177). Morḡ-e saḥar has remained one of the most popular of patriotic songs.

Dawn bird, lament!Make my brand burn even more.With the sparks from your sigh, breakAnd turn this cage upside down.Wing-tied nightingale come out of the corner of your cage, andSing the song of freedom for human kind.With your fiery breath ignite,The breath of this peopled land.The cruelty of the cruel and the tyranny of the hunterHave blown away my nest.O God, O Heavens, O Nature,Turn our dark night to dawn.It’s a new spring, roses are in bloomDew drops are falling from my cloudy eyesThis cage, like my heart, is narrow and dark.O fiery sigh set alight this cageO fate, do not pick the flower of my life.O rose, look towards this lover ,Look again, again, again.

Truth’s life has come to an endFaith and fidelity have been replaced by the shield of war.Lover’s lament and beloved’s coyness,Are but lies and have no power.Truth, love and affection are but mythsOath and honour are but vanished.For thieving, country and religion are pretexts, eyes are wetLandlord’s cruelty, master’s tyranny,The farmer’s restless from sorrow.The cup of the rich is full of pure wine,Our cup is filled with our heart’s blood.O anxious heart, cry out aloudAnd avoid those who have powerful hands,